Mead: it’s really old!

One week ago I stood in my pjs and wielded a red suede loafer against the hoard of evil flying, stinging bugs who welcomed me that morning. Ben was asleep until I stepped on one and was stung in the arch of my foot: “*&^$! BEES! #*%@ these BEES!” Ben sat up straight in bed as I howled and was immediately stung in the arm. A blue cloud of foul language hung low over our apartment building that morning.

And as the bugs did me a wrong, so did I bees, for in fact, those were yellow jackets and not bees at all. (For wasps, they sure were impolite!) Sure, bees can sting you, but they also do other wonderful things those flying vermin from Hell cannot: namely, make honey. And from honey, we make mead.

Mead is simply honey fermented in water, so it has only three core ingredients: honey, water, and yeast. There is this ongoing debate over whether mead is wine or beer, when really it’s obviously neither. It’s good and all, but I’m not going to get in a twist over it when I could be enjoying a real beer instead. I do give it a bit of respect, though, as it is thought to be the first alcoholic beverage EVER.

Mead has been around for a minute, featuring prominently in The Canterbury Tales and even Beowulf, which was like, the first thing ever written. One only marginally-disreputable website told me mead is what the ancient Greeks called Ambrosia. Supposedly the Greeks thought this “nectar of the gods” would enhance strength, virility, creativity, and wit. Thank goodness we’ve come a long way since then.

The beverage can also be found in old Norse and Aryan mythology. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there is Celtic mythology that speaks of a river of mead running through paradise. And, did you know the origin of the term “honeymoon” can be found in mead? Turns out you really are supposed to be drunk the first month of marriage: supposedly, in an old tradition, newlyweds were given one moon’s-worth of mead. (This was replaced by gift cards to Target? Come on.)

This was just the beginning: last week had a high body count

Mead’s origin story is similarly questionable. One source claimed hunter-gatherers must have stumbled across an upturned hive filled with water and, naturally, started drinking from it. I don’t know about my ancestors, but were I to come across a water-filled, former-bee hangout, the last thing I would do is get my face anywhere close to it. Once stung, twice shy, as they say. Any critter with a bum that sharp can have its space.

In the end, I don’t really care if these are actual myths of yore or, well, mythological myths: any drink that inspires so much literature is worth a try. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go squish a *+$^%# yellow jacket.